


Film At 11

by Maison195



Series: SHLD 16 Verse [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Journalism, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2012-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-16 22:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maison195/pseuds/Maison195
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson has been the executive producer of SHLD 16's <i>The Evening Report with Steve Rogers and Tony Stark</i> for five years. And every day for the past five years he has asked himself if simply walking in front of a speeding train would have been a better way to kill himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Film At 11

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/6565.html?thread=12436389#t12436389) at the Avenger Kink Meme. Getting an AO3 account finally gave me the kick in the ass I needed to finish this.
> 
> This first installment was me dipping my toe into the water of this AU - the other parts will be more substantive. I know enough about journalism for the basics, but not enough to make this incredibly accurate when it comes to the details. This series is more about the humor than the journalism. So please forgive my trespasses in that area.

The first thing that greets Phil as the elevator doors open on his floor is an intern, still young and fresh and full of enough dreams to want to be here any earlier than she absolutely has to be, practically tripping over herself in her eagerness to get to him as soon as possible. Because apparently he can't even walk across the newsroom to his office in peace anymore.

"What happened?"

"A major sex scandal just broke, like, two minutes ago!"

He squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose as his mind automatically supplies the worst-case scenario. "Please, for the sake of my sanity, tell me it isn't Tony."

"It isn't." Utter catastrophe averted. Now only organized chaos awaits.

He starts the walk to his office. Every day it feels a little bit more like he's walking towards his grave. The intern follows. "Tell me who the lucky bastard we're harassing today is."

"City councilman Tim Myers. He allegedly paid a hooker with taxpayer money. Which is bad enough on its own, but he's also married with four children. And also, he made a sex tape with the prostitute in question and it leaked online."

Phil takes a deep breath and turns to the intern. "What's your name?"

"Sara Whitacre, sir."

"Sara," he says in the most patient tone he can manage this early in the day. "Let me give you a lesson in journalism that someone should have taught you on your first day of j-school, and that I will be merciful and impart on you now. What you just did there? That's called 'burying the lead'. Married politicians have been cheating on their wives with prostitutes since man formed government. A leaked sex tape is news. So next time, the sex tape comes first."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Good lord, she still has enough spirit to be calling him 'sir'. No matter - a few more weeks should cure her of that. He instructs her to let him know when his reporters finally manage to drag their asses into work and closes the door to his office behind him.

Phil Coulson has been the executive producer of SHLD 16's _The Evening Report with Steve Rogers and Tony Stark_ for five years. And every day for the past five years he has asked himself if simply walking in front of a speeding train would have been a better way to kill himself.

 

Nicholas Fury is the station's news director. Everyone calls him Director Fury. Nobody else at the station gets referred to by their title and name, probably because they don't look like they should be plotting to take over the world and rule it with an iron fist. Director Fury is a large, intimidating man with an eyepatch covering his left eye. Legend has it that he lost the eye while covering troop movements in WWII. Phil finds the story plausible; if anyone can live that long and still look like that, it's Fury.

When Phil walks into his morning meeting with Fury, he's reading something on his phone. Phil has no doubt it's a news alert about the sex tape. Maria Hill, executive producer of the station's 7:00 pm show, is also there to share some of the pain. And, more than a little bit likely, to complain yet again about her budget as if either of them have any money they can give her. Sometimes these meetings feel more like a support group.

"'Prominent City Figure Caught In Sex Tape Scandal'," Fury reads. He looks at Phil. "It isn't Stark, is it?"

"No, but we should come up with plans for that in advance, because one day it will be."

Maria pats his arm sympathetically as he sits in the other chair in front of Fury's desk. "My team has had a fill-in-the-blank package ready for over a year." Her expression turns slightly guilty. "We also have one for when he's finally forced into rehab." She steels herself like she's expecting him to yell, which is ridiculous. Phil Coulson doesn't yell. He has spent years carefully cultivating a balance with his staff where they like him, but still respect and fear him enough that he never has to yell.

Phil should probably be offended that everyone is prepared in advance for his anchor to implode spectacularly in a very public way, but to tell the truth he's mostly pleased with their efficiency and ability to plan ahead. 

 

When Phil returns to the newsroom, he's annoyed to find that most of the desks that should be occupied by reporters are still empty. Steve is the only reporter of note there, working at the desk he insisted he have out among the people instead of in the private office that he, as an anchor, is supposed to be using. 

"Why are none of my reporters here?" he asks the room at large.

"They are here, sir," Sara replies. "They're in the conference room." She points to the other side of the newsroom. The conference room by Steve's desk is dark save for the faint, cool glow of a television screen.

Phil makes his way over and stands in the open doorway, assessing the situation. The entire reporting staff (minus Steve) have crammed themselves into the room, configuring themselves to maximize space. Thor has been made to stand at the back of the room so as to not obstruct anyone's view because he comes from some magical Nordic land where they sculpt blond giants with weird names out of pure muscle. He looks like he should be making millions playing sports, instead of next to nothing reporting on them. He is whispering a comment to Clint, regular crime reporter and occasional investigative journalist, who has no regard for space efficiency and is sprawled out in one of the rolling chairs with his feet up on the table. Clint chuckles at whatever Thor has said and turns to Bruce for his opinion. Bruce is too focused to notice, muttering to himself and jotting things down on his notepad.

There are two empty donut boxes on the table. Phil doesn't bother feeling disappointed that there aren't any left. Reporters are like piranhas - any food placed in a communal space is gone in seconds.

"Will someone please tell me what the hell you people are doing in here, besides vigorously testing the limits of my patience?"

"Research," Clint replies around a mouthful of donut.

It's at this moment that Phil's brain registers the moans coming from the TV. He turns to look, already knowing what he's going to see. Sure enough, today's entertainment is the grainy footage of Tim Myers and a young, busty brunette in a very compromising position. The producer in Phil wonders why Myers couldn't have used one of those idiot-proof HD cameras, although on second thought the grainy quality of the video does add a certain illicit feel.

"We decided to make it a staff party," Clint continues. "Except that someone who shall remain nameless - _STEVE ROGERS_ \- is being a party pooper." The last part is directed at the newsroom behind Phil.

Phil looks back over his shoulder at Steve, who has tensed up at the sound of his name. He is staring intently at his monitor and seems determined to not so much as glance in the direction of the conference room. Clint pushes himself out of his chair. Phil moves out of the doorway and back into the newsroom to make room for him.

"Come on, Steve. Watch the sex tape with us. Think of it as a team building exercise."

"No, thank you, Clint."

Thor pokes his head out as well. "Steven, I must insist that you join us."

"How is this even relevant to your beat, Thor?"

Thor grins. "She is very athletic."

Steve makes a pained face.

Clint, changing his strategy, ambles over to Steve's desk and claps a hand on his shoulder. "Steve Rogers, you are a true journalist," he begins, adopting a serious tone. "One of those few, sad people who still believe in truth, integrity, and an informed public - or some crap like that. Well, in order to inform the public about this story, you are going to have to have all of the relevant details and the relevant details are on that tape. You would be neglecting your journalistic duties if you didn't take advantage of an available first-hand source. Watch the tape with us. For journalism."

"For journalism!" Thor echoes from the doorway. 

Steve looks to Phil, silently pleading for assistance. Phil has no intention of offering any - sometimes you have to let the kids deal with their problems on their own. He conveys this in a shrug. Steve slumps his shoulders, heaves a sigh, and gets up. He lurches into the conference room accompanied by a dramatic slow clap from Clint and Thor.

 

Tony Stark arrives two hours before they go to air, so right on time. He is being herded by his personal assistant, Pepper Potts. Phil likes Pepper. He likes her a lot. Sometimes they get drunk in his office after the show wraps for the night and trade horror stories.

Tony stumbles through the newsroom, eyes covered with sunglasses Phil is sure cost at least half of his paycheck and looking like he just rolled out of bed. It doesn't matter, really - the hair and makeup department will have him looking presentable in no time, ready to play the part of a professional for an hour before going back to his chaotic ways.

Pepper hands him tonight's script along with a can of Red Bull as she gently yet firmly steers him towards his office. He takes a swig of the drink and makes a face.

"This Red Bull tastes funny. Why does this Red Bull taste funny?"

"Probably because it doesn't have vodka in it," Pepper replies.

He glares at the can like it has personally offended him. "Well then why the hell am I drinking it?"

 

Steve has been at the anchor desk ready to go for ten minutes when Tony finally emerges from hair and makeup. He flops down into his chair with an audible sigh. "This sex scandal is so tame. Politician employs hooker, pays for it with taxpayer money, stupidly films it, and somebody finds out. It's the same story over and over again. Switch it up, elected officials. I can't believe I actually put on pants to cover this." He scribbles something out on his script. It has the appearance of actual work being done, but Phil has been running this show long enough to know that he really did just scribble lines on the page like the alcoholic toddler that he is.

Tony looks into the nearest camera, addressing the control room. "Don't worry, when my inevitable sex scandal comes to light - don't act like the teamsters aren't running a pool, we all know about it - it will be much more entertaining than this."

Steve doesn't even turn to face him as they start the countdown to on-air. "It will never happen, because everyone already expects this kind of behavior from you. It wouldn't be newsworthy."

"Fuck you, it would at least make the gossip pages."

"In three, two…"

"Good evening. I'm Steve Rogers."

"And I'm Tony Stark. And you're watching _The Evening Report_ on SHLD 16."


End file.
